


Maybe I Need Your Help

by snowflakesautumnleaves



Category: NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Crying, Fainting, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Insecurity, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Mark Lee Are Best Friends, Overworking, Protective Lee Taeyong, Sad Mark Lee (NCT), Stressed Mark Lee (NCT), ig??? - Freeform, like they're idols but this isn't something that actually happened, this is just me torturing my bias again whats new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26683387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowflakesautumnleaves/pseuds/snowflakesautumnleaves
Summary: Mark is struggling with managing his workload between all the groups he's in and passes out after staying late in the practice room. Taemin is the one who finds him and realizes that there's something more going on with Mark than just an overloaded schedule.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 388





	Maybe I Need Your Help

Taemin had walked through the company doors at three in the morning more times than he cared to remember; whether it be getting a last-minute dance practice in before a comeback, choreographing his own dances when he couldn’t sleep, or because, like now, he had forgotten his phone in the practice room, 3 a.m. was never a pleasant hour to be there.

He had no intention of staying in the building for any more than a few minutes. It was just enough time for him to slip into the practice room he had been using the previous evening, grab his phone, and leave. But as he entered the room, the booming bass coming from the practice room next door grabbed his attention and wouldn’t let go.

It was fairly common for someone—idol or trainee—to stay at the company until ungodly hours of the morning, drilling choreography into their bones over and over again. Taemin was familiar with the muffled sound of comeback songs blasting at three in the morning, so he would have ignored it, let whoever was in the other room keep practicing, had he not recognized his own voice coming out of the room’s speakers. 

Tiger Inside was what the person was practicing. One of SuperM’s hardest choreographies.

He grabbed his phone from where he left it plugged into the speaker system and bit his lip. One of his members was here, at 3 a.m., practicing choreography that he knew all of them had down to near perfection. His chest flooded with worry at the thought that one of them would be here so late, practicing choreography they didn’t need to when they all had such busy, overwhelming schedules already.

He walked out of the room and down the hall, contemplating who he was most likely to discover killing themselves dancing this late into the night.

He doubted it would be Baekhyun or Jongin. The two of them were older, more experienced idols. They understood the importance of a good night’s sleep over a few extra hours of mindless practice that was mostly just throwing your body around to the music because you didn’t have then energy to do anything more. They knew to prioritize health over perfection, something only time and far too many sleepless nights could make idols realize.

But if it wasn’t them, that meant it was one the NCT boys—one of the kids. 

Taemin’s pace quickened. 

The four of them, Mark and Taeyong in particular, had been busier than Taemin had ever seen them in these past months trying to prepare and promote for SuperM, the NCT2020 project, and their other subunit schedules. He never understood how they handled it, how they were able to remain so composed and energetic practices and interviews when Taemin knew their heads must be heavy with exhaustion and muscles screaming in agony. Well, he did understand. There were times when he was inhumanly busy too, overloaded with promotions. But it was never with as many as they had to balance or for as long without having more than just a day off. Those boys never got a break, never had the time to so much as rest during their days packed full of never-ending schedules. So why would one of them choose to spend their already shortened nights dancing themselves into the ground?

If one of them was sacrificing their already feeble and dwindling health for the perfection of the dance, Taemin needed to intervene. Not only to stop them from burning out, but no sane person trying to balance their packed schedules would willingly skip out on what little sleep they had the time for. There was something else going on.

Taemin reached the door of the practice room and pushed it open without knocking. The lights were on, and the music grew louder as the door swung open. He had expected to see one of the NCT boys sweat-soaked and panting, dancing while scrutinizing each and every movement in the half fogged-up mirror.

He didn’t expect to see Mark’s too small, too sharp and angular body crumpled on the floor.

Time stopped around Taemin. He couldn’t move his body. Mark was on his side, his cheek pressed into the wood floor. He was sweaty and scarily pale, a shade only emphasized by the dark, baggy tee-shirt and joggers he was wearing. His mouth was open slightly and his eyes were shut in a way that looked almost peaceful; a stark difference from the two moods Taemin was used to seeing him in: frazzled and energetic or droopy and exhausted.

Taemin finally snapped out of his daze, it processing on his brain the Mark was  _ unconscious  _ and _ on the floor _ . He sprinted into the room, dropping to his knees next to Mark. His hands hovered over his body, unsure of what to do, whether or not he should touch.

“Mark,” he said, his voice coming out panicked and shaky, “Mark, wake up. Mark. Minhyung-ah, come on.”

He rolled Mark onto his back, slipping his hand under his head to cushion it from the hard wooden floor. He cringed at the way his fading dyed hair felt like straw. 

He said Mark’s name again, pleading with him to wake up then—

Mark’s eyes flickered open, cloudy and unfocused. A weak groan escaped his mouth.

“Oh thank God,” Taemin breathed out. He didn’t know what he was going to do if Mark hadn’t woken up. He had felt with members collapsing before, occasionally losing consciousness, but they had always come to within a minute or two.

Mark’s eyes blinked open fully and he tried to sit up. Taemin hesitantly assisted him, lightly pushing with a hand on his back. His spine was too prominent under Taemin’s fingers.

“Taemin-hyung?” Mark mumbled.

“Yeah, it’s me, Mark. Are you alright?” Taemin glanced at him worriedly as Mark pulled away from his touch and faced him, rubbing at his eyes.

“I— what…happened?”

Taemin bit his lip. It seemed Mark was unaware that he passed out; he might not even realize that he was in the practice room, yet. Taemin wondered how long Mark had been unconscious before he had found him. “I’m not sure. I found you passed out a few minutes ago. It’s three in the morning. We’re in the dance studio.” Taemin said each sentence slowly, keeping his words simple, and making sure Mark’s disoriented brain had enough time to process them.

Mark blinked twice then looked around the room, confirming what Taemin had said to be true. “Shit,” he breathed out. “Hyung, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—It’s late, you should be getting home.”

Taemin felt his eyes widen at Mark’s words. The kid was concerned not about the fact that he was half-dead on the practice room floor a minute ago, but about Taemin being here too late looking after him.

“Mark there’s nothing for you to apologize for,” he said firmly.

“But—“

“No. I am your Hyung and I am here to help you. Now, tell me what on earth you’re doing here at three in the morning going over choreography that you do perfectly every time I’ve seen you do it.” He waved his hand in the air, hoping Mark understood he was gesturing to Tiger Inside that was still playing loudly on loop.

Mark’s eyes widened slightly at the hand gesture and he reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, shutting the music off. He then looked to Taemin again, but wouldn’t look him in the eyes. “There were a bunch of songs that I needed to practice because I kept messing up in the live performances. This was one of them and this was the only time I had to practice it.”

“And you thought dancing until you passed out was the best way to do it?” He hated the way he sounded like he was scolding Mark but he couldn’t help it. He was angry. Pissed that his dongsaeng that was wasting himself away in the practice room without anyone knowing.

Mark shrugged and fixed his eyes on the ground. “Doesn’t matter. I need the practice.”

“Why do you think that?”

“M’not good enough.”

The words hammered a deep crack into Taemin’s heart and a mixture of pity, sadness, and white-hot anger spilled out of it, burning as it coursed through his veins. His hand curled into a fist and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from launching into a spew of angry reasons as to why Mark not being good enough was pure nonsense. He made himself take a deep breath before speaking.

“Mark, you are absolutely good enough. I don’t know what’s got you thinking you aren’t but you’re literally the star of this company.”

Mark shook his head that was still ducked down, eyes focused on the ground, but Taemin saw a tear roll down his cheek.

“Mark,” Taemin began, cautiously. This conversation, hell the whole situation, was spiraling downwards, fast, and Taemin wasn’t sure he would be able to save it. But he sure as hell was going to try. “What’s going on with you, huh? Tell, Hyung what’s wrong.”

Mark looked up then, staring Taemin in the eyes with his own tear-filled ones and quirking a watery smile that made Taemin’s heart ache. He had never seen Mark look so vulnerable, so broken as he did right now. “I told you already. I’m not good enough.”

“And I asked you why you felt that way because it isn’t true.”

“It is though? I just—“ he ran a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs away from his eyes, and Taemin noticed just how dark the dark circles beneath them were. “I’m falling behind in everything. I can’t keep up with it all any more there’s just too much to do and remember and I keep forgetting the choreography and my lines but I should be able to do it all, Hyung, I’ve always been able to handle it but I can’t—I can’t do it—“ 

A choked sob forced its way out of his throat, cutting him off, and tears flowed down his cheeks. Taemin shot forward, wrapping his arms around Mark and pulling him into a tight hug that the younger didn’t resist. 

The anger from before only grew inside of Taemin as he held and rocked a sobbing Mark through his breakdown. The company had put too much on Mark, they always had. Form the days he was an SM Rookie working with both the older and younger trainees, to debuting in three groups in the same year, to now, coming off of a SuperM comeback, getting ready for the NCT2020 comeback, starting preparations for the NCT127 comeback, and though nothing had been announced, Taemin had a feeling there would be an NCTDream comeback at some point soon, too. It was too much for anybody—Mark barely managed all the simultaneous promotions and finishing high school in the past but they put even much more on his plate now—Taemin wondered just how many other times the stress and exhaustion of it all had resulted in Mark passed out and alone, left to deal with his pain without a shoulder to cry on.

“You’re okay,” Taemin soothed. “You’re okay.”

When Mark’s crying finally died down and Mark pulled away from the hug, Taemin spoke. “You’re not worth less for being overwhelmed, Mark. You’re human, please remember that. SM has given you an inhuman amount of work. I can’t understand how you manage it as well as you do. You not being able to do everything they give you to perfection does not make you weak or not good enough. It makes you human. Okay?”

Mark sniffled. After a moment he said, “Okay.”

Taemin gave him a small smile. “Good. Now, how about we get you home?” Taemin wanted to wrap this up as quickly as possible; Mark was exhausted and, though he was fighting it, Taemin could see how badly the younger needed to sleep. He stood and held a hand out to Mark to help him. Mark took it and rose to his feet while shaking his head.

“I should just stay here,” he said. “127 has an early practice and it wouldn’t kill me to rehearse a few more times on my own…”

Taemin eternally groaned; his message hadn’t gotten through. But, before he could speak, reiterate that,  _ no, Mark, you don’t need the extra practice _ , Mark took a step away from him, his knees immediately buckling. Taemin’s arms shot out and caught him before he hit the ground, pulling him to his feet, and not letting him go. 

“Wouldn’t kill you?” He echoed, an edge to his voice. Holding Mark, he worried, not for the first time, about how thin he had gotten over the past few months. He felt like he barely weighed anything at all. “When was the last time you ate, Mark?”

Mark furrowed his brow, thinking intently for a moment. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted after a minute. 

Taemin added “address Mark’s apparent newfound food avoidance” to the mental list of Mark-related things he would be doing over the next few days. For now, though, he needed to get Mark out of the practice room and back to his dorm. “You are absolutely not staying to practice more. I’m taking you home, you’re going to eat something, and then you’re going to sleep.”

“Hyung—“

“No arguing. I’m taking you to your dorm.”

Mark deflated. “Okay.”

“Do you think you can walk?” Taemin asked despite already knowing the answer. He was supporting most of Mark’s weight already and they were simply standing. He only asked in order to give Mark what felt like some kind of control over the situation.

Mark thought for a moment and looked at Taemin with sad eyes. “I don’t think so,” he said in a small voice.

“That’s okay,” Taemin said quickly. He didn’t want Mark’s thoughts to start spiraling. “Hyung will carry you.”

“I don’t want you to have to do that. I’m too heavy.“

“You barely weigh anything, Mark.” Taemin gave him a stern gaze that conveyed that the conversation was over. He let go of Mark and, after making sure he was okay to stand on his own, crouched down in front of him. “Piggyback,” he said.

Mark wrapped his arms around Taemin’s neck and Taemin grabbed his legs before slowly rising. Mark rested his chin on Taemin’s shoulder. It warmed his heart slightly.

They left the practice room, shutting off the light as they walked out the door. But before they reached the doors leading out of the company building, Mark spoke with a voice so small Taemin barely heard him.”

“Hyung, could you take me to the Dream dorm, please?”

Taemin pursed his lips in confusion. He was certain that Mark stopped living with NCTDream years ago. “I thought you lived with 127?” He asked.

“I do, I just,” Mark sighed, “The Hyungs will freak out and I just—I can’t take that right now. The kids will help without, like, fretting, y’know?”

Taemin did know. He was the youngest for so long. Having older members that cared about you both was a blessing and a curse. Sometimes looking out for and taking care of became suffocating smothering that did more harm than good.

“I understand, Minhyung-ah. Will the kids be awake?”

“Probably,” Mark mumbled. He sounded sleepy.

“You can sleep, Mark. It’s alright. We’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you, Hyung.”

Taemin just smiled sadly.

Taemin knocked on the door of NCT Dream’s dorms, twisting his body awkwardly to get his hand to reach the door without dropping Mark. He was unconscious throughout the car ride to the dorm building and hadn’t woken up when Taemin pulled him out of the car. It was easier for him to carry him with one arm hooked under his legs and the other around his back—princess style—than it was for him to try to get Mark’s dead weight positioned safely on his back. 

From behind the door, Taemin could hear faint shouting and what sounded like a video game. He was about to knock again, afraid the kids hadn’t heard him over all the noise they were making, but just as he raised his fist, the door opened to reveal a confused looking Renjun with messy hair and tired eyes. He was in his pajamas—the shirt he was wearing being a good three sizes too big—and Taemin remembered how painfully late at night it was.

“Taemin-sunbaenim, what are you doing here?” He asked before his eyes landed on the half-dead looking, unconscious Mark, in his arms. Renjun suddenly looked far more awake than he had a second ago. “Oh shit. Is Mark okay?” He stepped away from the door to let them inside.

Taemin elected not to give a direct answer to that as he didn’t know himself. “I found him passed out in the practice room. He was conscious for a bit and asked me to bring him here.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.” Renjun ran a hand through his hair, glancing worriedly at Mark. “Follow me,” he said and led Taemin to the living room.

Jisung, Jaemin, and Chenle were all there, looking tired but with no intention of going to bed, playing Mario Kart and yelling at each other as they overtook one another in the race. Had the circumstances been different, Taemin might have scolded them all for staying up so late when they had schedules the next day. When none of them noticed their entrance into the room, Renjun yelled, “Everyone shut up!” causing three heads to snap in their direction. They’re eyes all widened at the sight of Taemin carrying a limp Mark. Jisung dropped his controller.

“Hyung what—“ Chenle began, but Renjun cut him off.

“Get Haechan, now. Code red,” he commanded.

Chenle’s face fell but a split second later he was jumping off the couch and running down the hall. Renjun saying “code red” seemed to panic them all; Jisung and Jaemin both stood from the couch and shut off the T.V., looking to Renjun for what to do next with immense worry stricken across their faces. Taemin wondered what the code could have meant to cause this.

“Lay him down on the couch, Sunbaenim,” Renjun said getting behind him to help get Mark off of his back.

“You can all call me, Hyung,” Taemin half mumbled as he and Renjun laid Mark’s limp body down. It worried him that all the commotion and movement hadn’t woken him.

Renjun hummed in acknowledgment and a second later Chenle, Jeno, and Donghyuck were running into the room, panic-stricken across their faces. Donghyuck rushed straight to Mark’s side, kneeling down next to him while the others hung back, keeping a few feet of distance from Mark.

Donghyuck looked up at Taemin. “He fainted?” He asked.

For a second, Taemin wondered how he knew that before he remembered the code Renjun had used a minute ago. A wave of nausea rushed over him. These kids had a code system for when one of them was hurt. Just what had they been through? “Yeah, I found him in the practice room. He was conscious for a bit…”

Donghyuck turned back to Mark with a frown on his face. He placed the back of his hand on Mark’s forehead before hissing and yanking it away as though he had been burned. “Mark you fucking idiot,” he grumbled. “Jeno, grab me an ice pack for his knee and a damp towel. He’s running a fever.”

“On it.” Jeno ran to the kitchen.

“His knee?” Taemin questioned. So much was happening so quickly. He was impressed with the kids’ immediately knowing exactly what to do with a passed-out Mark, but at the same time is was disorienting, the speed at which they handle the situation.

Donghyuck sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Taemin couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked, too. The dark circles that he had a feeling weren’t from late-night video game sessions. “He hurt it a few days ago and refused to go to the doctor because he’s a stubborn fucking idiot.”

“If he’s injured, it’s just going to get worse without treatment,” Taemin said, horrified. He hadn’t known Mark was injured. They had dance practice yesterday but Mark didn’t seem to be in any pain at all. He hid it so well.

“We know,” Renjun said, voice heavy. “But he says there’s too much going on right now for him to suddenly be unable to perform. We’re making him get it checked out after things die down a bit.”

“So, never, basically,” Donghyuck said sarcastically.

Taemin’s frown deepened. The more he learned about Mark’s current situation the more his worry grew and the more he wondered how he hadn't noticed so much was wrong with his dongsaeng. 

Jeno returned to the living room, a bag of ice in one hand and a small, wet towel in the other. He handed both to Donghyuck. 

“Thank’s Jeno,” he said. He pushed Mark’s bangs that were stuck to his forehead with sweat away from his face and placed the folded towel down on his skin. Mark’s eyes fluttered open as he did and somehow, he looked far more exhausted than he had when he had woken up in Taemin’s arms earlier.

“Hyuck?” Mark questioned weakly.

“Yeah, and you’re a fucking idiot, Hyung,” Donghyuck said but there was no bite to his voice, only worry.

“I’m sorry.” 

Donghyuck sighed. “I know.” He placed the ice on Mark’s knee electing a hiss from Mark and causing a much deeper, darker frown to form on Donghyuck’s face. “You need to sleep now, Mark, but we’re talking about this in the morning. And I’m calling Taeyong-hyung. You aren’t practicing tomorrow.”

“Figured,” Mark muttered. He tried to keep his eyes open, it looked as though he wanted to say more, but they slipped shut and didn’t reopen.

Donghyuck stood after a moment of staring at Mark with a sad expression and faced Taemin. “Thank you for looking out for him and bringing him to us, Hyung.”

“Of course,” Taemin said, a bit surprised. It was nothing really. He just wanted Mark to be alright. “Does this…happen often?” He hesitantly asked.

“More often than we’d like. He was doing well for a while but the promotions all kinda piled on top of each other and he just couldn’t handle it.”

Taemin nodded. He hated that this was the life these kids lived. Forced to hide so much pain.

“I guess I should be going, then. Don’t stay up much later, okay? You boys need to rest too.”

“We won’t, Hyung. Thank you.”


End file.
